Ghosts Without Numbers


There are wraiths of gray and blue smoke lost out there somewhere in past summers

Cautious crows and raucous ravens prowling the air between ghostly Fall trees

In outer circles of plundering power where patterns of thought like light decay

Where what once was wolves is decaying into sorry facsimile of pretend jackals

Hording channels of communication media like wanton kills

Piling mountains of precious molecules up to unconcerned skies

Bathing in the scents of their own uselessness like scavengers in carrion

While ancient recluses wait for imaginary doors to other dimensions to magically

Appear to open, held fast against the close digital compression of an age

Where rhetoric is proclaimed as though some precious scripts only privileged castes

Allowed to read, sets of rules bound up in nets of lies intricately corrupt

Worthless as the soulless hands that wave the signs boasting of some name

Where the leaves away branches broken, like counting ghosts without numbers



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2026-10-14 at 03:24

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